He soothed her and caressed her, murmuring, "Nay, sweet love, 'tis done, and the monsters shall be banished from your sight. Never again shall they rise to hurt you. Nay, my jo, my dear, my precious, be sure that I love you with a love that shall never vary, never swerve, for I know you for what you truly are, and 'tis for that I do love you."

His brothers and sisters looked on, beaming fondly— but Alea whirled and ran from the chamber.

Twenty-Eight

MAGNUS STOOD STARING AFTER ALEA, STUNNED, then started after her, walking quickly, even now careful not to come too close too quickly.

He came out into the courtyard just in time to see her run into the stable. Knowing she was unlikely to leave, he followed slowly and came in carefully, searching about him in the gloom, then following the sound of weeping.

He found her leaning against the post between two empty stalls, head on her arms and weeping with the deep, racking sobs of true heartbreak. Magnus came up as near as he dared, then asked gently, "Why do you weep, companion of my bosom? Surely you cannot think that anything Allouette said in a moment of despair might be true!"

"But it is, it all is!" Alea groaned. "Go away, Gar! Let me be miserable in peace!"

"I cannot leave you sunken in lies."

"Lies?" Alea whirled to face him, face blotched, eyes red and swollen, tears still running down her cheeks. "She told only truth! I've always known I was awkward and gawky, too ugly for any man to love!"

"That is not true, not a word of it!" Magnus still dared move no closer, but he reached out. "But your feeling that way means that every word Allouette spoke went straight to that most vulnerable point in your heart."

"You can't deny that I'm awkward and gawky!"

"You are the soul of grace and deftness," Magnus countered. "Your movements in battle are a symphony; every step on the road or in the forest is sheer poetry. Oh yes, I deny most heartily that you are in any way awkward—but I can believe that you were in your teens."

Alea's eyes widened. Suddenly conscious of them, she made a quick swipe at her tears. "I'm far too tall to be graceful!"

"You're the perfect height," Magnus contradicted, then amended himself. "Well, perhaps an inch too short."

"Don't mock me, Gar!"

"I wouldn't dream of it." Magnus stared steadily into her eyes. "You want truth, and that is all I'm giving you— or honesty, at least; truth as I see it."

"You can't really believe I'm beautiful!"

"I've believed it since the first day I saw you," he said, "covered with briar scratches and smudged with dirt, your hair wild with two days' flight through a forest. I believed it then, but I knew it two days later, when you were clean and neat, and I thought I had never seen so beautiful a woman in my life!"

"All right, maybe I'm plain, not ugly—but you can't expect me to believe you find me beautiful!" Hope had crept into her voice, though.

"You must believe it," he said, "for it is true—believe that in my eyes, at least, you are beautiful." At last he stepped closer, lifting a hand to touch her cheek but not quite daring. "Come, you know you've caught me looking at you with admiration time and again—the times you caught me by surprise when you turned to look at me, and I hadn't been quite quick enough to look away."

"With admiration, yes." Her heart was pounding with hope that she tried to thrust down. "But desire? Never!"

"You've never caught me at it, no," Magnus said. "I hid it well, knowing you would see it as the worst sort of betrayal."

Alea stared at him, startled, then said, "For the first few years, yes, that was true—but not any more!"

"I could not take that chance, though, do you see," Magnus said, "could not take the chance of frightening you and hurting you and undoing all the progress you had made toward healing. So as to being repressed and frustrated, I most certainly am—but I will continue to be so, as long as that is what you need from me."

Alea only stared at him, wondering how so intelligent and sensitive a man could be so stupid, then said, "That's not what I need from you any longer. I need the final stage of healing now."

Magnus's eyes glowed; he stepped closer, but he only asked, "What could have wounded you so badly that it has taken so long to heal?"

"Only a careless, selfish lover." Alea tried to make light of it, but a sob caught in her throat. "Only a man who swore he loved me, told me his desire for me caused him physical pain, and begged me to assuage it. Flattered beyond words, I let him bed me—but when he had taken his pleasure, he called me a whore and went away, then never spoke to me again." She couldn't hold back the tears as she said it.

Face all tender concern, Magnus held out his arms, and Alea stood rigid, then swayed into his embrace and let the sobs go.

Magnus held her firmly, and when the weeping had slackened, he said, "Even after five years of my safekeeping and devotion, it still hurts you so badly."

"Nowhere nearly as badly as it did." Alea looked up at him, wiping tears from her eyes. "But you—it's been ten years now, and the wounds Finister gave you still fester."

"Well, yes." Magnus's embrace loosened; he stepped back a little, but still gazed into her eyes. "There was reason, though. She induced my love not just by allure, but by projective telepathy—total, abject devotion—then shamed me and humiliated me in every way she could. She even convinced me I was a snake doomed to crawl forever about the base of a tree, and I understand that I did just that, though everyone else saw a naked man curled about that trunk."

Alea gasped in horror, hearing it again, but from bis point of view. "How …?"

"My father found me and called Cordelia, who was able to banish the worst of the spell—she's a strong projective herself. But the witch came back again to compel my love and shame me one final time, leaving me mired in a morass of depression. My father found me again and called my mother this time, who knew she must not cure me herself and sent me to the Green Witch, who healed the worst of my pain."

"Healed the worst, but it has taken you ten years to heal the rest?" Alea gasped.

"Yes—for the only true healing I could have was to fall in love with a woman who was absolutely trustworthy…" Magnus touched her face, ever so lightly. "… a woman who might disagree with me to my face but who would never speak against me behind my back, and would certainly never, ever humiliate me or shame me."

His face was so near, but he was not, could not be, saying what she had so longed to hear. "It's too bad you couldn't fall in love with me, then," Alea said with a catch in her voice.

"No," Magnus agreed, "I grew into love with you, instead."

She stared at him, riveted, frozen, though her lips parted ever so slightly—and ever so slowly, he lowered his own lips over hers in a kiss that melted her and lasted far longer than either of them intended. They broke apart, gasping and staring at one another, wild-eyed—but when they had caught their breath and the wildness had faded from him a little, Magnus breathed, "Marry me, beautiful woman—I beg you to marry me, for if you don't, I'll live a lonely man all my life."

"But—but there are a thousand women more beautiful than I am," she protested.

"None," Magnus said, with total conviction, "and none who could even begin to understand me as you do. Will you marry me, for love?"

"Yes," Alea said, in a voice so small that even she could scarcely hear it.

Then Magnus lowered his lips to hers again, and the world went away for a while.